


six pomegranate seeds

by mindyfication



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer's Cage, M/M, Manipulation, Past Torture, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-25 20:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindyfication/pseuds/mindyfication
Summary: Persephone was given six perfect pomegranate seeds.It’s a ridiculous sentence, no part of hell could ever be perfect, certainly nothing that had grown there. But it echoes around Sam’s head as he sits in the nearly empty cage, eyes squeezed shut tight.





	six pomegranate seeds

**Author's Note:**

> created for the [celebrating sam fanworks event](http://ohsam.livejournal.com/910738.html), this one is for the pomegranate prompt

_Persephone was given six perfect pomegranate seeds._

It’s a ridiculous sentence, no part of hell could ever be perfect, certainly nothing that had grown there. But it echoes around Sam’s head as he sits in the nearly empty cage, eyes squeezed shut tight. 

He remembers reading it, young in Bobby’s library. Remembers thinking that you never accept food from faeries, wondering if there was some long forgotten connection between the lore and greek myth. Memories are slippery in the cage, but this one never leaves him- he’s sure Lucifer has something to do with it. A twisted premonition from long ago that he was always hell bound. 

He should have been named Per- no, _Cassandra_. Dean would have gotten a kick out of that, and maybe the bitter irony would serve as a better chaser. 

“You were made for me Sammy,” Lucifer whispers, and Sam’s long past protesting him using Dean’s name, the devil’s fingers petting his cheek. “You always knew it. You were destined to return to me.” 

There’s no question in his voice and Sam can’t help but believe. Fuck, he’d thought Lucifer’s voice was _God_ , had never been so calm or certain. 

“Call me it again Sam,” Lucifer says, fingers tight on his jaw. “Out loud.”

“No,” Sam says, eyes open as he backs away. 

Lucifer tsks him, follows him into a corner. “Now Sammy, do you want to say it or do you want me to make you scream it?” A wide grin lights up his face when Sam doesn’t answer, “Too slow, screaming it is.” 

Sam breathes slowly, tries to force his heart rate down. He’d been expecting this moment since Rowena locked him in the cage with a chipper, ‘Sorry dearie, we have a better plan and you’ll get in the way.’ 

He knows it means they’re using Dean to defeat Amara, and his soul aches at the thought. That after everything Dean would have to lose himself again. That-

Lucifer’s fingers pinch his nipples, and Sam looks down, confused. The devil is many things, but he’s never near _gentle_. Sam’s waiting for the cruel twist, for Lucifer to suddenly bite or rip, to strip the flesh from his very bones. He’s already naked and vulnerable, can’t help the shiver. Lucifer said he was going to make him scream and the devil’s never been one to break his threats or promises. There’s a fiddle of gold in the corner of the cage that attests to that. (It isn’t lost on Sam that the fiddle stays down here, that winning always meant them together in hell.)

“I’ve been thinking Sammy boy,” Lucifer says, stepping forward and Sam’s back presses into the cold iron bars, his back curving into the corner. “This time I want some reciprocation.” 

Sam chokes on nothing, eyes wide, “You’re mental. You’ve been here too long with Michael if you think there’s any chance-”

Lucifer laughs, softly drags his fingers through Sam’s hair. Sam’s waiting for the grab, the tug that will make his stomach twist in unpleasant arousal, make him hate his body a little more before Lucifer forces him to his knees. 

It doesn’t come. 

Lucifer simply runs his fingers through his hair a few times before setting his hand at the base of his neck. “Oh sweetums, I think you’ll change your mind. You don’t want it to be like last time do you?” 

Sam can’t help the full body shiver, trying to press himself deeper into the corner. Anything would be better than that, _anything_. 

There’s still a bit of pride in the back of his throat though, that makes him say, “What you think you can Stockholm Syndrome me into being your little bitch?” 

“Made for me,” Lucifer murmurs, bringing his thumb around to press down on Sam’s lips. “I have forever my dear Persephone. And you’re too smart to pretend it won’t work. There’s no rescue team this time Sam. You’re not just going to be my bitch, you’re going to be my good little boy and keep me entertained. You don’t wanna become useless like Michael, mindless and drooling in a forgotten corner.”

Lucifer pauses, drags his thumb down with Sam’s lip before letting it snap back. His gaze is heavy and Sam knows what happens next, digging his nails into his palms like it might somehow be a hallucination. 

“Tell me, do you want to be good baby boy? Or do you want me to break your mind again, until there’s nothing left of yourself?” 

Blood drips down his fingers, and Sam forces the words out, can’t survive what Lucifer did again. Fuck, he can barely _think_ about what he did without wanting to puke. “I’ll be good.” 

“Excellent,” Lucifer purrs, pressing a soft and swift kiss to his lips. “No more hurting yourself Sammy,” he says, grabbing his hands. He feels the spark of Lucifer’s grace, too distinctive to forget; he can’t help but wince as the bloody crescents heal over. Sam’s eyes fall shut, every other instance of Lucifer healing him flashing before him: after he had flayed all of his skin off, after he’d bitten away all of his soul, spitting it to the floor, after he’d fucked him with too many created objects to be tight anymore, after, after, after-

His body is real this time, and somehow Lucifer’s grace feels exactly the same. It wasn’t like that with Cas-

Lucifer’s teeth nip at his lower lip. “Ah-ah Sammy boy, no thinking about other angels. You'll hurt a girl's feelings.” 

His hands move to Sam’s curled shoulders, gently press down. “Show me how much you’ve missed me Sammy.” 

There’s a second when Sam thinks about denying him, about forcing Lucifer to rip him apart if he wants to get anything out of him. Lucifer doesn’t even blink, just wears that lazy smile, and Sam’s too weak to rebel against him. There’s a voice in the back of his head, it sounds too much like Dean, telling him not to fucking do it, to have some self-respect, that this was the fucking devil. 

Sam sinks down to his knees, and Lucifer waves away his own clothes. It’s a small mercy that he doesn’t say anything as Sam takes him in his hand, a sudden flashback to Lucifer ripping his hand off once when Sam refused to touch him. He feels sick, sicker that his thoughts are what’s fucking with him the most, not Lucifer’s cock a breath before him. 

Phantom pain and separation shoots through his wrist, and Sam moves his mouth forward instead. Inevitable, he thinks, trying to block out the familiar taste. 

The problem is everything is so goddamn _familiar_. 

Lucifer might not fuck his face like before, might not dislocate his jaw or pluck out his teeth, but his cock is the same weight in his mouth. The bitter precome just as salty, just as twistedly normal tasting. 

“Give it time baby,” Lucifer coos above him, petting his throat. “Your flashbacks are shallow echoes, they won’t last long. We’ll replace them with better memories.” 

Sam shivers, sucks him down. Lucifer never lies to him. 

Lucifer must be pleased with something, action or thought, drags him back up to his feet. “We can do more of that later darling, I’ve missed being inside you.” 

There’s a bed suddenly in the middle of the cage, large and circular without any posts, too many pillows and deep golden sheets. It’s nothing like the beds Lucifer used to occasionally summon, shitty doubles with scratchy blankets that could have been pulled from any of the tiny motels he and Dean stayed at. 

Lucifer smirks at him, hand posed to snap, “I can change it.” 

“No, no,” Sam hurriedly says, sitting on the edge. “It’s um, great.” 

And it _is_. The silk feels downright decadent against his bare skin, and no bedposts means no chaining him up. No drawing and quartering by enchanted furniture. 

Lucifer kisses him out of his thoughts, deeper this time. He tastes like stale power, always has, and Lucifer stops abruptly. 

“Hands and knees,” he says. 

Sam obeys, crawling to the center of the bed. His head falls, hair brushing against the sheets, and he counts his breaths steadily. By ten Lucifer would be inside him. There was his spit at least, he shouldn’t tear quite so bad- 

There’s a tongue. There’s a tongue in his ass and Sam has to look back, is sure he’s hallucinating. 

Lucifer is grinning, takes the wet warmth away to say, “Careful Sammy, you might turn to salt.” 

And then his tongue is back, insistent and all consuming, and Sam can’t help a low hissed, “ _Fuck_.” 

Lucifer’s tongue goes up and down at once, stretching him open, and Sam whimpers, can’t keep looking, head falling back to the bed. He’d forgotten about the sometimes forked tongue, is sure he won’t ever again. Sam groans into the sheets as Lucifer’s tongue goes even deeper, calloused hands holding him open. 

It feels good, too good, and Sam forces his eyes up on the cage’s bars- a reminder of where he was and who he was with. 

Lucifer practically sighs into his ass, sitting back on his haunches and lightly slapping him. “You’re still thinking coherently, I have to fix that.” 

Two fingers soaked in lube slide into his ass easy, and Sam’s arms give out, shoulders hitting the mattress. It makes the angle dramatic as he pushes back into Lucifer’s hand as much as he can. It also smushes his face into the sheets, which very well may be a blessing soon enough. 

“Atta boy Sammy,” he says, slipping another finger in. The three fingers move in and out quickly, never press long against any part of him for real relief. Sam keens, knees slipping wider, and he gets up on his elbows to keep from falling. His cock is dripping, aching as his prostrate gets teased, and the thought comes unbidden: _God, fuck me_. 

Lucifer’s fingers slip at the thought, slam into him harder, slam the very breath out of him. 

“Oh my beautiful boy,” Lucifer says, drawing his hand out and kissing his spine. “So good for me.” 

Sam clenches around nothing, the yearning worse, and Lucifer chuckles, dragging his dick up and down his crack. 

“Ask for it again Sammy,” he says, teasing him more, pressing directly against his hole without enough pressure to actually go in. 

Sam doesn’t, jerks his hips back instead. He won’t look back, doesn’t want to know what it might trigger, he just wants to feel more. 

“Naughty boy,” Lucifer growls, but lets him impale himself. “You’ve gotten better at this.” Sam shivers at the unasked question, and Lucifer rocks into him too gently. “Tell me Sam.” 

“Just me,” he says, tries to think about anything but them. Pink elephants, fucking pink elephants. 

Lucifer laughs, drags his nails down his back, making Sam curl with pleasure. “Be good and I won’t make you tell me today.” 

And Sam’s already here, what’s one more deal with the devil. “Please,” he begs, pushing back, “faster, fuck please _god_ please.” 

His hips snap at that, Lucifer’s hand suddenly around his cock, and the scream rips out of his throat. Lucifer fucks Sam through it, burning pleasure turning to painful penance fast, and Sam craves it all- needs it all.

“So beautiful for me,” he murmurs and Sam collapses, can’t hold himself up any more. Lucifer doesn’t mind, pushes his legs open a little more and pounds into him all the harder. 

Lucifer finally comes and he feels whole again, as if diluted grace was what he’s been missing. It clicks like when his soul came back together, only instead of memories there is a rush of belonging. _You were always running to me_ , Sam remembers, and in that moment he truly believes it. He’s always been trying to create a home where he could just be, he thought he had it- but this, this is so much more. 

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Lucifer croons in his ear, holds him close, laying over him. One hand wipes away Sam’s tears, and he didn’t even realize he was crying until then. His hand is before Sam’s mouth, and he licks it clean without needing to be asked, swipes away the salty tears and ejaculate. 

The thought comes back, louder: _Persephone was given six perfect pomegranate seeds_. 

But Sam took Lucifer’s seed willingly, didn’t need it to be disguised as fruit.


End file.
